I think that one of the reasons I had to start a new blog is this... I had to start to tell the truth. My lies were not so blatant. They were more sins of omission, than blatant lies.
Not that that makes it any better. No, I'm not donning the hairshirt, I am just telling the truth.
The hard part will be this... When I start telling the truth, all sorts of people may be turned off or offended. I have come to the conclusion however, that while I don't want to offend, I also don't want to compromise.
My being alive is pretty unlikely... Yet here I am. I have come to a point in my life where I think I better start telling my story. Which is an unlikely story.
My mother was 43 when I was born. My father was 37. They were an unlikely pair (can you tell that unlikely was in the running for blog title?) to be sure.
I am not trying to make this worse nor am I trying to sugarcoat this, so I will just tell it as I have come to understand this unlikely puzzle of my life.
In any case, my mother drank. A lot. A real lot. And smoked, very smokey. She was also not focused on nutrition. As one who came of age during the depression, she did not have the luxury of choosing good food. I also believe that she was lactose intolerant, something that was yet undefined.
My father was... well it is much harder to describe him. He was someone of enormous personal power and sadly that often came out in anger and violence. The targets of his anger and violence were typically women and children. More about that later, some of you know what I am talking about here and for those of you surmising... surmise away.
So here is this woman, aged 42 when I was conceived, perhaps in a violent moment that culminated in sex. Anyone who doesn't think that there is a potential relationship between anger and sex should reconsider that. Some of us never learn how to separate them, some of us are lucky and we do.
Anyway, I am conceived and for the next 5 months the following things happen in my mother's life:
- Poor Nutrition
- Fights and Beatings
- Emotional Distress
Here is what does not happen:
- Visit to a doctor
- Acknowledgement of pregnancy
Now I am telling this story without pity, so please try to read it that way if you can. Far me it from me to tell you how to feel, but I can assure you that your pity, however generous, is not what I am seeking.
So, I guess at 5 months, it was no longer possible to ignore the growing belly, so off to the doctor's they go and suddenly I guess everyone is happy that a baby is coming.
Today we are all so careful that not a drop of liquor or second-hand smoke passes the lips of a woman during pregnancy. Imagine the damage.
Well imagine the damage... Here I am. Unlikely as it is!
Unlikely as it is, somehow I got born and had 10 fingers and 10 toes and a brain that while a bit addled at times, somehow had the capacity to grown and learn. Forgive me if I sound arrogant, but the one thing I have no problem owning is my intelligence. I know that I am very smart.
Sadly, for most of my life that was not any comfort at all. In fact, it seemed a burden.
Lest anyone think I am advocating for poor pre-natal care, I do not recommend my own early life in the womb. No, I do not recommend it at all.
I guess it just causes me to consider why I am here and what I am supposed to do with this unlikely life. At 51, 52 in November, I figure I better get off my ass and do it.
For most of my life I have been very afraid to be who I really am. Not that I had a clue who I really was, not sure that I have a clue now. It is a bit clearer, but I am not sure I know.
I do know that the life I live today has brought cloudy and blurry things into more focus and that I no longer believe that I live for myself alone. I did believe that for a long time because I had the deeply held belief that no one lived for me, so therefore... Well, you know.
Anyone who knows me at all knows that my faith plays an important role in my life. Talk about unlikely, it is so very unlikely that I am not only a practicing Roman Catholic today, but someone deeply involved in the life of the Church.
It is unlikely that I would ever rise to the position of Senior Vice President at a large corporation, a career I have always described more by saying it was more by default than by design. Yet that happened too.
Equally unlikely is my leaving the NYC area, getting married at 49 to the man I fell in love with at 20, becoming a step-mother to an amazing young woman, starting graduate school in theology and working as a church secretary.
And very unlikely that I would ever take the storm of words that ever swirled in my heart and mind and begin to commit them to paper or screen.
It is all unlikely, but I guess it is all happening.
What is the point of this post?
To say that while unlikely, miracles happen all the time in the small and tiny places of daily life. Stop looking up at the sky and waiting, the miracles, unlikely as they are, happen every minute in your heart.
Well, they do in mine anyway. I am going to stop ignoring them which has always led me to wait for the "big miracle."
What? Don't believe in miracles? I don't care if you have a faith practice or not, that is your business. What I do hope is that you have some dreams. Every time one comes true, even just a little, in the most unlikely way, that is a miracle of sorts.
So it begins. More truth-telling and bread to follow. With miracles all over the place.
Peace to all.